


When He Had This

by Fatlockandfeeding



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Drinking, Fatlock, Feeding, M/M, Stuffing, Verbal Humiliation, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-16 01:18:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2250504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fatlockandfeeding/pseuds/Fatlockandfeeding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Request: A very drunk Sherlock confesses his kink to Lestrade. Kinkiness ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When He Had This

He hadn’t intended to get drunk with Lestrade. But after the third time John cancelled their plans to see one another, Sherlock was growing desperate enough for human contact that he decided to branch out into his other friends. He called Molly, who was on a date with some man (although she sounded entirely too willing to leave said date and see Sherlock), and then he went downstairs to see Mrs. Hudson, but she had Mrs. Turner over for Gin Rummy and gin, and two minutes of that was definitely enough, thank you very much. So finally, Sherlock had trekked back upstairs and called the only other person he really thought of as a friend. Lestrade had sounded surprised, but had invited Sherlock down to his local pub readily enough. 

And that’s how Sherlock Holmes found himself slumped over a bar with his pet DI almost three hours later, his sixth beer in his hand and four empty shot glasses lined up in front of them.  
  
"I don’t -hic -usually like whiskey," Sherlock slurred out, "especially not cheap whiskey…"

Greg, while inebriated, had a better tolerance than Sherlock, and he chuckled and jostled Sherlock playfully with his shoulder. “S’not that cheap, you snob…” He looked over at Sherlock. “I had fun tonight…but why’d you call me? We’re not usually pub mates, right?” 

Sherlock swirled his beer around in his glass and huffed, and then suddenly he felt his eyes getting filmy with tears and he shook his head. Enough. Don’t be stupid, Sherlock. 

Greg frowned and put one hand on Sherlock’s shoulder. “Hey…Sherlock, you alright?”

Sherlock sniffed and then spoke pathetically, a whining tone entering his voice. “J-john keeps cancelling, because he has Mary and the baby to look after now. But he used to look after  _me_.” He wiped his nose with his sleeve. “Who’s going to look after me now?”

Greg sighed. “Sherlock…you can look after yourself. You’re one of the most capable people I’ve ever met, in some ways.”

Sherlock sighed and rested his head on his arms on the bar. Yes, that felt nice. “I suppose so. John never did it right anyway.”

Greg quirked an eyebrow in amusement. “Oh?”

Sherlock nodded and yawned. “He never…fed me.” He could just go to sleep right here. 

Greg took Sherlock’s arm and shook it gently. “What do you mean, ‘fed you?’”

Sherlock looked up at Greg and then leaned in, his breath hot and whiskey-scented. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Greg grinned and leaned closer. “Yeah?”

Sherlock leaned over until his lips were pressed against the shell of Greg’s ear. “I want someone to stuff me and make me fat,” he whispered, “I always have…” Then he leaned away and drained the last of his beer. “I thought John might have -hic -finally been the one. But no.”

Greg’s head was spinning, and not just because of the alcohol. He never thought he’d find someone who liked the same sort of thing he liked, who had the same…craving, only from the opposite side of the spectrum. And he  _never_  in his wildest dreams imagined that it would be  _Sherlock_ , gorgeous, talented, intelligent Sherlock, with his acerbic tongue and brilliant brain. Greg swallowed, hating the way Sherlock looked so morose, and before he knew what he was doing he leaned over and placed a hand on Sherlock’s flat belly. 

"Six beers already…looks like you’ve got a pretty good start if you ask me, piggy."

Sherlock blinked in shock and turned to look at Greg, his eyes wide and questioning. 

"Let’s go back to my place," Greg growled, "and see how full I can get you. I live right next to a chippy."

Sherlock stayed silent for a few moments, and then nodded, grabbing his coat as his stomach coiled in excitement. 

One quick cab ride and stop into the chippy later, and Sherlock was on Greg’s couch, opening his mouth as Greg fed him piece after piece of flakey fish and greasy potato. He moaned and opened his mouth again, spreading his legs a bit. “Just one portion?” he asked. 

"One portion of fish and chips," Greg said, "and then a whole sausage roll and this 2 litre of coke." He rubbed Sherlock’s belly, which was already bloating beneath his hand. "You’re not up to more than that yet, my little piglet. Don’t worry, I’ll make you into my big, fat hog, but it’s going to take some time." Greg kept pushing food into Sherlock’s mouth, covering the man’s plump lips in salt and grease. "Would you like that, Sherlock? To become my huge hog?"

Sherlock nodded and took bite after bite, groaning as his belly began to protest. “Yes. I want to…want to be your fat slut.” Sherlock gasped. “Want to get so big for you, Lestrade.” 

“ _Greg_ ,” the DI said, shoving the remainder of the fish into Sherlock’s mouth, “you’re not allowed to stop chewing on something until you can say my name properly, understand?” Sherlock let out a muffled sounds of agreement, and dutifully opened his mouth as Greg shoved more chips inside it. Then he handed the crinkling grease paper to the detective, and crouched between his legs, framing his taut belly with his hands. Sherlock continued to eat as Greg caressed him. 

"God, look at you," the DI murmured, "so fucking round and full, and you want more, don’t you, you greedy slut?" He pressed his thumbs into the mound of Sherlock’s belly and then leaned down, biting at the stretched flesh. Sherlock’s belly was a hard, round mass beneath his hands, and Greg couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like when Sherlock’s belly was jiggly, huge, and sagging. God. He gave Sherlock’s stomach a resounding slap, and laughed when Sherlock squealed at the pain. "Already becoming my pig, aren’t you? God, you’re going to be huge, Sherlock, immense."

Sherlock nodded, and then shoved the last bite of sausage roll into his mouth. “Yes…” he gasped out, “G _reg._ All yours, just your fat pig, your hog.”

Greg moaned when Sherlock said his name, and leaned up, kissing the younger man on the lips. “Good piggy,” he murmured, “now it’s time for your reward.” he picked up the huge bottle of coke and and unscrewed the cap, before handing it to the detective. “Drink it, Sherlock. All of it.”

Sherlock whimpered. “M’so full…”

Greg slapped Sherlock’s belly again. “ _Drink it_.” His face softened. “I’ll help you, I promise.” He began to rub Sherlock’ stuffed stomach. 

Sherlock’s eyes rolled back at the feeling of the amazing pressure of Greg’s hands, and with some effort he hoisted the large bottle to his lips, chugging as much as he could. But before long, he had to lower the bottle to let loose an enormous, wet-sounding belch. He looked down sheepishly at Greg who only grinned and rubbed Sherlock’s belly harder. “That was good,” he murmured, “now more.” 

Sherlock drank and drank, his belly ballooning with the carbonated drink while Greg rubbed and encouraged and groaned when Sherlock had to pause to burp. It took a long time, but eventually the detective finished the entire bottle and collapsed back against the couch, gasping. 

"No more…no more."

Greg nodded and stood up, kissing Sherlock’s brow. “You did so well,” he promised, rubbing Sherlock’s gut gently, before unbuttoning the shirt and stroking the smooth skin. “Look at yourself, Sherlock, look at how big and round you are. Is that what you wanted?”

Sherlock nodded and let his head rest against Greg’s neck. “Want to be so fat,” he muttered, and then smiled when Greg stroked his hair. 

"Oh you will be, Sherlock…breakfast in bed tomorrow."

Who needed John Watson when he had this?


End file.
